


Falling In Love At The End Of The World

by AreYouReady



Category: Call for the Dead - John le Carré, LE CARRE John - Works, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré
Genre: (sort of not really), Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Finger Sucking, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Maybe Ever Depending On How You Define It, More Like Former Professor-Former Student, Oh Wow This Is The First PWP I've Posted In Years, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Tagged TTSS Because That's The Smileyverse General Tag, Teacher-Student Relationship, We're Never Gonna See Each Other Again Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreYouReady/pseuds/AreYouReady
Summary: 1943. George has been recalled to England. Dieter wants to give him a gift.
Relationships: George Smiley/Dieter Frey
Comments: 7
Kudos: 118





	Falling In Love At The End Of The World

**Author's Note:**

> Given that the main characters are spies, who are spying on the Nazis, and one of them is Jewish, warning for oblique mentions of Nazis.
> 
> Also, this fic is about a former college professor sleeping with his former student so like dead dove I guess.
> 
> Warning for... Body image weirdness, I guess? And some homophobia mentions.
> 
> Also, George legally can't think any actual sex words, and he's the point of view character. Don't blame me for using the word "manhood."
> 
> Anyway, I'm very excited to be literally the first person in a ship tag :3

George had long since gotten over the strangeness of being driven around the streets of Berlin by his former student, carefully dressed in intentionally shabby clothes while Dieter was done up in the enemy’s regalia. Now it was one of his favorite aspects of the job. 

Dieter had matured since the war began. Frown lines creased his young forehead, and while he was still as quick minded as the nineteen year old boy George had first met in 1937, his tongue was a little slower in following his thoughts. But his vitality remained. The travails of espionage had failed to kill his spirit, and indeed, when he let it out, it was all the stronger for its confinement. 

George sometimes felt like Dieter was the only real thing in the whole ephemeral, unseen battlefield of his profession. When the bombs fell, they fell somewhere else. George wasn’t there to see them. All he could see was the imaginary suspicion behind the eyes of everyone around him, and the desperate pleading of his other agents, and Dieter, standing strong in the middle of the storm, sure and upright, and glowing with life.

Which was why this would be his hardest goodbye.

“Dieter,” said George, quietly, as soon as he’d gotten in the car.

“George.” Dieter sensed the change in him immediately, and seemed worried.

“Dieter…” Somehow he shrunk from the necessary task at hand. _ I must tell him. _“I’ve been recalled.”

Dieter stiffened, as though he’d been stung, but relaxed just as quickly.

“When?” His voice was hard.

“Next week. Thursday.” _ Before we are scheduled to meet again. _

“And you did not know this before?” Dieter sounded calm, but George was saddened by the accusation in the words.

“I was told yesterday.” _ When I was told I thanked God it was over. That I was out. It is selfish of me, wanting to be out of danger when you have no choice. But I am selfish. _

“Ah.” There was a long silence as Dieter drove further and further from the center of the city. Dieter was the one who broke it. “I suppose you ought to conduct my last debriefing, then, and I’ll see your successor at the next appointed place?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” 

The debriefing was shorter than usual, Dieter didn’t have much material for him. The air was tense the entire time, as though there were something that one of them was waiting to say. 

Finally, as Dieter was pulling up to drop him off, he spit it out.

“George. There’s something I want to give you, before you leave. Come see me, the day before you go. A few hours.”

“What?” George said, but Dieter plowed over him.

“There is an old farmhouse where we can meet.” He rattled off the address. 

George agreed. He felt like… like he owed it to Dieter. To see him again before he left.

It was going to be a difficult sendoff.

-

Even though it wasn't far from anything at all, the farmhouse _ felt _isolated. Hills and thick forest shielded it from any sign of human civilization, save the road that led to its door. February snow carpeted everything, and consumed all sound. George drove his rented car up to the door. He didn’t see Dieter’s anywhere, but maybe there was a garage behind the house.

The door was large and white, with a handle that probably used to be golden but was now brown with dirt and tarnish. When he pressed his thumb down on the latch, it was unlocked, and he let himself in.

Inside, the hallway was lined with wood so dark it was nearly black. Once he closed the door, the fading sunlight coming in through the windows was the only illumination, and George, whose eyesight was mediocre at the best of times, could barely see.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to acclimate himself to the dark, but when he opened them again, a tall, pale figure in a white dress stood at the end of the hallway, and George froze. 

As much as he had professed otherwise for most of his youth, to please his mother and a succession of masters at school, George had never been a spiritual man; even in his darkest hours he had never been inclined to believe in anything beyond the reach of human intellect. But that belief, or lack thereof, was being tested now, as he was confronted with a gothic specter standing right before him. Unable to take any meaningful action in the face of such a situation, he found himself polishing his glasses, as if that would take away the apparition.

But as the figure moved towards him, it resolved into Dieter Frey, and George felt ridiculous. He supposed that this, more than anything else, was evidence that London was right to recall him. The metaphorical specters of his job were haunting him in far too literal a fashion.

“Dieter.” Still, his voice shook. Dieter’s cane clicked on the floor. George hadn’t noticed the noise before. He felt even sillier.

“Hello, George.” Dieter was wearing a dressing gown, and his long curly hair floated around his head in a manner that was still somewhat ethereal. He leaned his cane against the wall, and took George’s hands in his. Surprised, George let him.

“What exactly is this?” George asked, confused and unsettled by nearly every aspect of the situation.

“A goodbye,” Dieter answered. He sounded far away. 

“And what was it that you wanted to give me?” George felt himself joining in the dream that had been happening around him, finally dancing the right steps.

“Myself, of course.” Dieter’s eyes were wide and nervous as they looked down at him. His voice shook slightly. George was halfway through formulating the words needed to ask what he meant by that when Dieter kissed him. On the mouth. And not at all in a comradely fashion.

George stood there for a moment, dumbstruck, and then stepped back.

“Dieter.” George said, sounding surprisingly calm in his own ears, “Why did you do that?”

Dieter looked as shocked as George felt.

“Because…” He seemed lost, unable to think of a reason. George wanted to reach out to him, give him comfort, was halfway through taking his hand when he remembered the context. Dieter seemed to find himself. “Because I thought you wanted me to.”

“I…” _ I didn't. _Easy enough to articulate, but the words wouldn't come out.

“I thought… I thought you were a good man, you didn’t want to misuse your power… but now it is over, we will never see each other again, we could have one last…” Dieter trailed off, looking down. 

This time George really did take his hand. The world tilted sideways, as he reevaluated five years of intellectual battle and soldiers’ brotherhood. Somewhere in the middle, he realized that tears were collecting around the edges of Dieter’s eyes.

“You want…” George trailed off. Dieter was looking at him.

“To become your lover.”

“I… understand. I think…” George remembered the little sparks he felt when they clung to each other underneath a collapsing church, while the RAF that Dieter had sent blew the world to hell. He hadn’t noticed at the time, as other things had, quite reasonably, occupied his mind. But he remembered a moment when the idea had occurred to him that he should bury his face in Dieter’s shoulder, breath in Dieter’s scent, press his cheek against the flesh of Dieter’s throat. He had not wondered why this idea had occurred to him, and he had not done it for reasons of whatever shreds of propriety he had still held onto as the world burned above him. And something he could not name had kept him from thinking over the moment again. 

But perhaps Dieter’s idea was not so far from the truth.

Dieter made a wordless, questioning sound, but before he could voice a full thought, George kissed him. He squeezed Dieter’s hand in his.

“So you do. Want me, I mean.” Dieter’s voice was breathless, and filled with the joy it is only possible to experience when one has just been weeping.

“I- I believe so,” George said, still not entirely sure of himself. Not quite convinced that he could incorporate an impulsive homosexual encounter with a dear comrade smoothly into his idea of his own identity. But that was a problem for another day. Today, Dieter stood in front of him, tall, beautiful and desiring. 

“Perhaps we should…” Dieter motioned down the hallway with his hand.

“Yes,” agreed George, floating on a cloud of nerves and anticipation. Dieter took up his cane in one hand, and entwined the other arm with George’s. They walked together.

The door that Dieter had come from at the end of the hallway was a bedroom, and George shivered when he saw it, the reality of the situation hitting him.

The sheets were white, and shone in the dusk, but everything else was dark and filled with shadows. Dieter sat on the bed, and the skirt of his dressing gown spread out around him. Seated, Dieter was barely shorter than George was standing. He tugged on George’s hand, and George sat beside him.

They kissed like that, and George lost time. At some point they were no longer sitting, but lay side by side, facing each other. George interlaced Dieter’s long, cool fingers with his own stubby ones, and brought the back of Dieter’s hand to his lips. It was pale and cool and soft, and covered almost up until his knuckles with fine dark hairs. It smelled like perfumed soap.

Then Dieter shoved him away and pushed him down onto his back. He swung a leg across George and straddled him, one knee on either side of George’s stomach. The belt of the dressing gown was slipping, and it fell open down to Dieter’s navel. Dieter leaned down to kiss George. His hair tickled George’s cheeks.

One of Dieter's hands was planted on the sheet next to George's head, holding him up. with the index finger of another, he traced an imaginary line from George’s temple to just above his collar over and over, with a delicacy that made George shiver.

George rested a hand on either side of Dieter's rib cage, desperate to touch him but unsure quite how. Euphoric that Dieter was happening to him, terrified that his own inexperience would ruin it in some way. In the end, he just continued kissing back, and rubbed little circles where his hands were. Dieter didn't seem to mind.

As Dieter sat up, the neckline of his dressing gown drooped, and it fell entirely off one of his shoulders. He looked at it, annoyed, and shook his whole arm out of that sleeve. His pale skin nearly glowed in the darkness, making his bony shoulder and stark collarbone resemble nothing so much as a marble statue.

George opened his mouth to say something, but could not think what. _ “You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life” _ ? Distressingly accurate, but currently rather meaningless. _ “I never knew what I was missing” _ ? A bit rude, and rather failed to capture the depth and gravitas of what he felt. _ “If you were a woman I would take you back to England and marry you, war be damned” _? Rather more of a rabbit hole than he wanted to introduce into the situation at present.

Eventually, he settled on _ “May I,” _and a light tug at the silk tie of the dressing gown. Dieter’s eyes widened and he nodded, biting his lip.

It took very little at all for the entire garment to fall away, revealing Dieter’s nearly naked body to George. He looked soft and easy to injure, as though George had accidentally cracked some exotic ocean creature out of its shell. George was suddenly nervous. He felt like he would bruise Dieter by touching him.

Without clothes Dieter was suddenly awkward. George could see goosebumps forming on his skin. Dieter leaned down to kiss George again, and George reached up to put his arms around him. He needed to protect Dieter, if only from chilly air currents. Heat radiated from Dieter’s skin as George touched it. He pulled Dieter down, hugging him.

And then, Dieter giggled. George was so surprised that he let go.

“George, you are going to crush me.” Dieter was still laughing.

“Oh. Oh dear. Sorry.” George blinked at Dieter in a sort of mindless shock. He had almost forgotten he was not dreaming. Dieter… Dieter kissed his nose, and George felt himself blushing.

“George, it’s a little odd to be like this,” Dieter waved a hand at the loose black shorts that were his only covering, “while you are like that.” George looked down at his own fully clothed form. He nodded.

Dieter’s long fingers brushed gently over George’s chest, feather touches making him shiver as Dieter undid his buttons. As the crack in his shirt front grew longer, George grew uncomfortable, watching his own body become visible. His flabby flesh rippled and deformed as Dieter touched it. George imagined himself as a bowl of custard that had gone a bit off. He shied away from Dieter's hands.

He had never put all that much thought into what making love might actually be like. In his imagination, there would be him, and there would be a woman, and there would be darkness, and there would be kissing, and then genitals would come together. As a youth, he had made an occasional hobby of imagining women’s naked bodies, but never thought of involving his own.

The thought of someone who… who _ wanted _him, whom he wanted, seeing him unclothed was far more upsetting than he was prepared for. He found himself pushing Dieter’s hands away.

Dieter looked hurt and pulled back.

“Have you changed your mind, George?” The haughtiness of injured pride was clear in his voice. He was looking away.

“I- No. No, I simply…” George trailed off, and crossed his arms over his chest. Dieter softened, but did not speak. They looked at each other for a long moment. 

Then George sat up and kissed Dieter. Dieter gave a little muffled shriek of surprise, but kissed back. George haphazardly pulled Dieter back on top of him; Dieter spilled into his lap and nearly overbalanced, only able to right himself when George caught him around the waist.

Dieter put his hands on George’s shoulders. George ran his hands over Dieter’s hips, feeling the intricate outlines of bone under skin. Dieter shivered and pulled back for a moment, before relaxing into George’s hands and kissing him even more fervently, writhing his hips from side to side. 

“Oh!” George spoke without meaning to as Dieter’s body moved against his. Dieter took the opportunity to wrap his arms around George and pull him closer. George kissed him again, and then buried his head in Dieter’s shoulder, taking in the feel of him. Dieter made a small sighing sound, and squeezed him lightly. They stayed there for a time, together, while Dieter rubbed his cheek against George’s hair. He smelled like fresh sweat, a slight mothball mustiness that must have been from the dressing gown, and the natural sweetness of a body that has just bathed.

“George.” Dieter pulled away, and was looking at him clear eyed. “George will you please…” He grabbed George’s hand, and brought it between them. “Will you please touch me?” He drew George’s hand beneath the band of his shorts, and George felt the hot hardness there, slick with bodily moisture. He began to move his hand up and down, and Dieter gave a quiet, shivery cry. He clung to George as George continued, burying his head in George’s shoulder, breathing so close against George that his breath made a wet patch on George’s shirt. He started sloppily kissing George’s neck, above his collar, and George shivered. He wrapped his free hand around Dieter’s back and held him.

“George,” Dieter panted after they sat like this for a while, “George I think you should… stop.” George paused what he was doing, and Dieter relaxed instantly. “Thank you, George, but I want to wait.” He kissed George, and then began to wriggle off him backwards, landing in a heap beside him on the bed. He half-climbed, half-slid to the floor, landing with a slight thunk on his buttocks.

“Dieter…” George was concerned. He peered over the side of the bed. Dieter grinned up at him.

“Pass me a pillow to sit on, George?” George complied, giving Dieter two of the fat, plush down puffs that the bed was laid with. After some kerfluffle, Dieter seemingly managed to get comfortable on the pillows, and looked up at George, waiting. George remained unmoving, unsure what to do. After a minute of this, Dieter seemed to shake himself, and beckoned George over. George stood up from the bed in front of Dieter. George was suddenly aware again of how very tall Dieter was, as his nose was on a level with George’s navel.

George had the impulse to stroke Dieter’s hair, and did so, twirling a strand of it around his finger. Dieter leaned into his touch, until finally George was cupping Dieter’s face in his hand. Dieter let out a sigh, and closed his eyes a moment, before opening them again and pulling away. 

Dieter began fumbling with George’s trousers, and it took George an embarrassingly long minute to realize that he was trying to open the front. George felt himself blushing furiously, and froze. It was only when he felt Dieter tugging down the waist of his undergarments that he was able to join in, helping Dieter strip him naked below the belt.

The cold air was a shock to his newly naked flesh, and the thought occurred to him that Dieter, being nearly completely nude, and touching the cold wooden floor, must be even colder. But when Dieter laid his palms on George’s thighs and pushed him backwards so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, they were warm, the skin papery and dry.

Dieter looked up at him, and he looked back. Dieter was sitting almost demurely between George’s thighs, hands curled together in his lap, almost hiding the fact that his shorts were straining to contain him (and at the top not quite succeeding). George felt the impulse to stroke Dieter’s hair again, and this time Dieter leaned his head on George’s knee, closing his eyes. Dieter’s hot breath brushed his inner thigh, and gooseflesh raced over his body.

“George, may I…?” Dieter’s voice was dry, almost a whisper. He licked his lips. George caught his breath, and nodded. 

Despite his mental preparation, he still gasped in shock as Dieter took the tip into his mouth. The intensity of the new feeling mingled with the intensity of the realization that this was his first experience of physical love, that it was truly happening and not some sort of dream vision.

He found his free hand grasping at the bed, as Dieter took in more and more of him. He opened his mouth to pant. Dieter began to move his head forward and backward, and George nearly grabbed his hair to stop him, because it was too much. There was too much sensation. He could feel Dieter’s tongue rising and falling, feel Dieter’s throat as he swallowed, feel excess spittle dripping off himself. 

Dieter made a soft noise, and George not only heard the sound, but felt it as well. One of Dieter's hands was occupied gripping George's thigh. The other, George now saw, was occupied with Dieter touching himself. He shivered and thrust his hips forward slightly, causing Dieter to pause his oral activities.

“Ah- please, continue.” George tried to calm his own voice and mostly succeeded, but Dieter hummed an assent with George still in his mouth and the facade was broken as George squeaked a gasp.

George wanted to touch Dieter more but couldn’t decide how. His hands hovered stupidly over Dieter’s head for a moment, before finally settling, one resting on Dieter’s own hand, and one cupping the back of his head. Dieter seemed to redouble his enthusiasm, and George found himself scrabbling at Dieter’s hand until it no longer gripped his thigh, but his hand instead.

They stayed like that for an amount of time that George was not competent to measure, though he later suspected it was rather shorter than it felt, before George felt the end coming. He could not _ think. _Though he wanted nothing more than to continue on as things were, he did not want to force Dieter to taste the disgusting byproduct, so he shoved him away.

Dieter fell backward and caught himself on his hands. He looked up at George, and his eyes showed hurt. A line of drool ran down his face, and his lips were unusually pink.

“Did I do something wrong?” His voice was quiet but roughened. George instantly felt the need to apologize, although he could not figure out for what, exactly.

“I was- I was going to- I didn’t want you to have to have my… my _ semen _in your mouth.” George only managed to get through the sentence with his eyes closed. 

“Oh.” Dieter sat up. He put a hand on George’s shin. The gesture seemed absent minded, a thoughtless quest for comfort. “You know, I don’t mind that. I like it a little bit, actually.” Dieter was looking down. He was actually _ blushing _. 

“Oh, I see.” Seeing Dieter so bashful provoked in George an outpouring of emotion rather too complex for names at that moment, but whose overall effect was to make George shakily rise to his feet and then crouch, so that he could put his arms around him. Dieter cuddled against him.

The press of his own body against Dieter’s was warming to his soul, but also not unerotic. George brushed their faces together, and the excitement of nerves was enough to make him gasp. He kissed Dieter, forgetting what Dieter had just been doing, and was surprised by a new and interesting taste, whose source, when he realized it, made him blush. He was more surprised, however, by the passion of the kiss, as Dieter suddenly attacked him with fervor and he found himself responding in kind. He began desperately to want more direct erotic attention, jerking his hips automatically. He stopped the kiss, and they both gasped.

“Would you like to continue as you were, before I stopped you?” George asked.

“Yes, I would, please.” Dieter was smiling a joyful and perhaps slightly devious smile. His eyes were wide, and George found himself noticing, as he had so often this evening, that they were beautiful.

George pulled himself up, an embarrassing process that involved much groaning and clutching the bed behind him. Finally, he was sat on the edge again, looking down at Dieter.

This time Dieter gripped the soft flesh of George’s inner thighs hard, drawing up great folds of fat, and took the whole of George into his mouth without preamble. The sudden heat was enough to make George cry out. He grabbed both of Dieter’s hands, gripping them to keep himself grounded as Dieter threatened to make him leave reality all together.

And then suddenly he lost his grip, and Dieter was swallowing around him as he spilled. He was suddenly concentrated for that moment completely on sensation. 

He only returned to himself when he felt Dieter withdraw. He opened his eyes to see Dieter grinning up at him, definitely smug. 

“So, did I do well?” His hands were folded in his lap again, and he wriggled his shoulders, a mock-feminine ingenue-seductress.

“Yes, my God-” George cut himself off, hiding his face in his hands. 

“I’m so glad Professor Smiley gives me such high marks in cocksucking,” Dieter said, and through his fingers, George saw him raise his eyebrows and grin even wider. After a moment of shock and embarrassment, George could not help but laugh, and Dieter laughed with him.

“That’s disgusting,” George said, still laughing. Dieter just smacked his lips. 

“Help me up.” Dieter extended his hands, and George took them, pulling him shakily to his feet. Dieter was slender, but his height still meant that he weighed a considerable amount. He collapsed onto the bed next to George, and pulled George down to kiss him.

They ended up, through writhing and crawling, more towards the center of the bed. George slung and arm across Dieter’s chest and kissed his neck, making him moan.

“George, will you please leave marks on me?” Dieter asked. George looked at him. His eyes were half lidded with desire.

“Alright,” he said, and bit Dieter lightly, enough to redden the skin. Dieter hissed and nodded aggressively, so George did it again on his shoulder. George began biting the same spot several times, leaving a darker, purplish mark that looked like it might last. By the time he had finished, Dieter was gasping.

George continued to work his way down Dieter's chest as Dieter's fingernails scrabbled at the back of his shirt. Dieter was covered in red and purple patches.

“George.” Dieter had lifted his head, and was looking down at George. He took George’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the palm. At first the kiss was chaste, but then Dieter opened his mouth and began lick and suck at the flesh of George’s hand. It was an odd experience, but George found himself mesmerized. When Dieter began to flick his long tongue at the delicate flesh between George's fingers, George drew in a shivery breath. When he started sucking George's fingers with the enthusiasm that he has recently been sucking something else, George nearly gasped.

All the while, Dieter had been wriggling his hips, and George only realized he had been pulling off his shorts when he managed to kick them off entirely. George gazed at him, revealed in his full nakedness, his manhood standing at attention out of a mess of black hair. 

Dieter planted one last smacking kiss on the palm of George's hand. George realized Dieter's ulterior motives just as Dieter opened his mouth to ask.

“George, will you touch me again?” Dieter's voice was breathless. George did not need to be asked twice. He put his hand on Dieter's magnificence, and gave it a long stroke. Dieter rolled his hips, long and leisurely, and George took this as an indication of the desired pace. He stroked lightly, then took a moment to squeeze hard, almost uncomfortably, and then stroked again, this time twisting, just as he often did for himself. Dieter seemed to be enjoying himself, giving a litany of gasps and cries, and clutching hard at George's free hand.

Suddenly Dieter was kissing George, hard and desperately, both hands holding George's face. George sped up his efforts, and felt Dieter moan into his mouth. They lay locked together, moving as one, breathing as one, thinking only of each other.

Then George paused for a moment, and pulled away.

“Dieter, would you mind if I…” George began unbuttoning his shirt again with his dry hand, and tugging it off. His embarrassment no longer outweighed his desire to share in Dieter's nakedness.

George embraced Dieter, pressing their bodies together, and entwining their legs. He began to stroke Dieter again, and felt Dieter's muscles tensing as he did so. He kissed Dieter again, and they remained like that, two bodies melted into one, George's softness meeting Dieter's slenderness and merging with it.

Dieter's hips began jerking erratically, and George gripped him tight, feeling the veins that indicated imminent release begin to bulge. He saw Dieter begin to spill and squeezed him, making him cry out as he coated his own stomach in sticky white liquid. 

They lay, Dieter panting, George calm, for a long moment. George wanted to lay there forever. Dieter’s eyes were closed, and he looked suddenly young, a boy exhausted by a hard day’s work, sleeping an earned, uncomplicated, dreamless sleep. George wriggled up to give him a kiss on the forehead. He leaned their cheeks together.

Then Dieter raised his head, grinned at George, and ran a finger through the drying seed on his stomach. He then put it in his mouth. George blushed, disgusted but slightly intrigued. Dieter put on an impressive show of sucking his finger, and George blushed even deeper. After he swallowed, he scooped up another fingerful, and pressed it to George's lips, not hard enough to force, but hard enough to suggest. George acquiesced, and took Dieter's finger into his mouth, sucking on it, trying to imitate what Dieter had done for him.

The taste was quite bad, nearly making George gag, but the context was surprisingly erotic, and George closed his eyes in embarrassment as he swallowed.

He kissed Dieter, and for the first time it could be leisurely, as neither of them had any desperation left. They explored each other’s mouths slowly, and with contentment.

As their passion cooled, the coldness of the air made itself evident, and George took a break from kissing Dieter to tuck them both under the bed covers. They curled together, warming each other. George rubbed his nose against Dieter's.

George found himself drifting, nearly dreaming for real this time, and in such a state, the horror of reality tugged at his heart. He opened his eyes to see Dieter dozing as well, and shook him.

“Dieter… Dieter, you can still-” George cut himself off. _ Dieter, you can still jump. You've done enough. Dieter, the service owes you its blood. Dieter, come with me. _ Dieter was shaking his head. George could see tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“You know I have to stay, George. I have to protect my mother. And- and…” Dieter's breath caught, and his face hardened. “I want to see this thing to the end. We will win, George. I'll survive. Maybe-” the last word was cut off by a hiccup-sob, and Dieter did not continue. George knee what he had meant to say, the sentence he had been unable to finish. _ Maybe we'll see each other again. _

George held Dieter to him. He knew it wasn't true.


End file.
